


it is not in the stars (to hold our destiny)

by bluebismuth



Series: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter Fics [29]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 14:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18802201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebismuth/pseuds/bluebismuth
Summary: Michael hates fate. Hates what it wants for him. So far, he's been good at avoiding it--fate would've never wanted him to end up with a new family and a job that gives him endless thrills. Unfortunately, what fate has in store for Ryan conflicts with what both of them want out of life.





	it is not in the stars (to hold our destiny)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naturallyvicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naturallyvicious/gifts).



> this is a secret spring fairy fic for @Naturallyvicious!! lov u cin

Michael did not like the whole idea of fate.

Specifically, he didn't like the part where whatever situation he was in was inevitable, and that he had no say in what happened in his life. Had fate decided that the way he was living three years ago was how he would die, he would've loathed the idea even more.

But that wasn't how it worked out. Geoff had hired him for a temporary job, and he impressed him to the point of being hired to the crew full-time. Either that was his fate all along, or he’d fought hard enough against what was determined for him.

Well. That, or there was no such thing as fate. Michael preferred that option.

It was what drew him to Ryan. Someone that mysterious and yet dangerous...if fate had its way, Michael would've never been attracted to him, with how destructive and rowdy he was. 

But here he was, steadily breaking through the walls Ryan had set up. Michael didn't push him past his limits--even if he was hot, he was still the most feared man in Los Santos--so something about this Jersey kid off the streets must've intrigued him. Maybe it was that similar want to rebel, rebel against what fate wanted from them.

Michael _lived_ to rebel.

It was what brought him here, to the rooftop of the bank his crew had just robbed. Geoff did want him and Ryan out of there as soon as possible, but hey, when it came time for them to really get out of there, he'd let them know. For now, it was just the two of them.

Michael couldn't help but grin as he put his arms around Ryan's waist. Even with that stupid skull mask on, he was pretty. Ryan just stayed there, not returning his affections but not shying away from it either.

“Aw, you don't have to act all tough around me, Rye.” Michael saddled up closer to Ryan, practically smelling the treated leather covering his face. “Wanna lift that mask up a little and kiss me?”

Ryan was silent, unmoving. Michael felt his body become tense under his fingers, and he moved away a bit. “I...I can't,” Ryan finally said. “‘M sorry. We should go back.”

“No, no, don't apologize, you're…” Michael sighed. “You're right. Geoff was probably gonna be screaming at us once I did kiss you anyway.” 

Ryan huffed. “Let's go, then.”

Michael trailed behind him as they sneaked out of the bank, whispering a message to Geoff that they were on their way. Ryan looked stoic, but something inside Michael told him that he was uncomfortable.

It wasn't a big deal that he didn't want to kiss him. He'd been rejected before. And besides, maybe Ryan just...wasn't ready for that yet. He was a private person. Neither of them really considered their relationship status as anything other than ‘occasional flirt.’ 

Maybe there was more to the whole thing. But it wasn't like he could know now.

They got out as easily as they got in, diving into the getaway car just as Jack drove off, the rest of the crew in tow.

“We're all good, right? No injuries?” Geoff asked from the passenger seat gave some form of confirmation, with Michael giving him a thumbs up.

As Geoff turned back to look back through the windshield, Michael looked to where Ryan was sitting, the two of them separated by Gavin. Gavin seemed to notice, and he turned to Michael. “Where were you and Ryan, anyway?” he whispered.

“‘S not important, don't worry.” Michael folded his arms. It wasn't exactly a secret that he liked Ryan, to those that paid attention. And he could barely get Gavin off of him half the time.

Gavin gave him a knowing look. “You know he's shy, Michael,” he replied. “And I know you like him. Maybe you just gotta take your time, boi.”

“I know, I know…” Michael sighed. “It's just...you know that feeling when you see someone and you have that overwhelming urge to kiss them?” He looked back at Ryan, who had taken to staring out the window. Even if they were whispering, he probably would've heard them by now.

Gavin nodded. “Yeah, with Jeremy. But we're already dating, you know that. Not much of a surprise if I go over ‘n kiss him. Don’t rush him, Michael.”

“I’ll try not to.”

He glanced at Ryan again, still in the same position as last time. It definitely wasn’t the best idea to have that conversation, but he couldn’t take it back now. _Fucking idiot,_ Michael told himself. _As if you didn’t drive him away far enough._

\---

A few days later, Michael found himself on the penthouse’s rooftop. His sleep schedule was still off from the bank heist, but he tended to wake up every few days and just...think, no matter how well he was sleeping.

Something about being on the rooftop made it a good place to think. Maybe it was the open air after being shut in for hours, or that he could see all of Los Santos from this high up, like he was observing the kingdom he ruled with the rest of the crew. 

Michael heard faint footsteps, and then the door to the roof opening behind him. The one con to the roof was that he sometimes had visitors.

Not that he minded. It wasn’t like he was having a breakdown up there—most of the time. He froze, though, when he looked back and saw Ryan in his pajamas lighting a cigarette. They hadn’t spoken since the heist. If this was set up by fate, then he might as well take advantage of it and apologize. 

“Don’t give me that look.” Ryan’s voice startled Michael. He had to have been staring since Ryan came up to the roof. “I’m trying to quit. This is my only one for the day.”

“Yesterday or today? Cause it’s like, two in the morning.”

Ryan paused, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Today, today.” He blew out the rest of the smoke over the glass fence surrounding the roof and into the air.

Maybe that was why Michael hadn’t figured out he was a smoker until now. Sure, his voice was a little raspy from time to time, but that could’ve been anything. 

Michael shook his head. That wasn’t gonna be the topic right now. He stepped closer to Ryan. “Look man, I’m sorry about what happened last heist. With the roof and talking to Gav about you. It was stupid.”

Ryan nodded in agreement, taking another drag. “I forgive you,” he replied. “Truth be told, I kinda figured you regretted it, but it’s nice to know that for sure.” He coughed a few times afterwards. “So...yeah.”

They stayed in silence for a little while, with Ryan slowly whittling down his cigarette and occasionally coughing to break it. It felt intimate, despite being a few feet apart.

“Fate’s real to me, Michael,” Ryan said. “It wants certain things for us. And it punishes us for trying to break free.”

Michael blinked. _Where the hell is he going with this?_

Ryan took his silence as a sign to continue. “It gives me little blips of happiness here and there. But anytime it thinks I’m being selfish by falling in love, it rips that away from me. I don’t want to endanger people like that.”

He reached the end of his cigarette and sighed. Without another word, he walked back to the door, dropped the cigarette in the ashtray above a trash can, and went back to the penthouse.

And Michael was alone.

\---

The next two weeks or so were largely uneventful. Michael and Ryan occasionally talked, but it was surface level, nothing like the conversation they had on the roof. Sometimes they would run into each other up there, but neither of them seemed to want to initiate a conversation. 

That was fine, though. As much as he did like the chaotic part of being alive, Michael could appreciate the quieter parts. If they weren’t boring, at least.

The only reason that it wasn’t boring was because they were setting up their next heist: somehow, a private detective hired by the LSPD had figured out that Geoff wasn’t the one pulling the strings in the Fakes anymore. While they didn’t know that Trevor was their true boss, it was imperative that no one outside the crew knew the true identity of their leader. It was too risky, and it nearly cost Geoff his life multiple times when it mattered more.

Not that it didn’t still matter, but either way, the information had to be destroyed. Ryan and Alfredo would keep watch over the detective’s office, to make sure no one got inside, and Michael and Gavin would retrieve the evidence of Geoff’s non-leading role. They would actually destroy it back at the penthouse, should everything go according to plan. Otherwise, there was a half-full paper shredder in the same office.

Gavin and Ryan arrived in one car, with Michael and Alfredo in the other. 

“Alright,” Alfredo started. “So I’m meeting up with Ryan on the roof across from the building, since the entrances are from the outside. And we gotta shoot non-lethally if they try to open the apartment that you and Gav are in, correct?”

“You got it,” Michael replied, patting Alfredo’s shoulder. “Ryan’s there just in case you need some help, but I got faith in you.”

He smiled and headed off with Ryan, while Gavin met up with Michael before entering the apartment complex. Michael repeated the apartment number to himself, until they reached room 204. With a quick glance to make sure the balcony was empty, Gavin started to pick the lock.

Michael chimed in to his earpiece. “How’s everything looking, Salami Dicks?”

He could hear Alfredo sigh at the team name before Ryan jumped in. “Clear so far. Hopefully for the rest of the time too.”

“Alright. We’ll check back in if we find anything.” He clicked off, and heard another click a second later from the door. Gavin waved him inside, and Michael followed him.

“At least they keep their place neat…” Gavin mused, looking around the office. On a desk was a rather large file holder, and Michael picked it up. The words _CASE 415 - LSPD - FAKES_ were written on a sticky note, and he opened it up. Sure enough, the holder was full of evidence of Trevor’s existence, and clues to Geoff’s appearances during heists. “I’ll look for evidence scattered around here. Let’s just empty that for now.”

“Gotcha.” Michael opened up the cinch bag he’d brought and dumped the files inside the holder into the bag. Gavin had gathered up a few more sheets and tossed those inside, along with some photographs. “Lookin’ good, boi.”

Before he could contact Ryan and Alfredo to tell them they were done, Alfredo suddenly pinged in. “We gotta get out of here, guys. Me ‘n V got compromised. He’s staying behind to hold off police, but we don’t have much time. Get outta there!”

“Shit, let’s go.” Michael grabbed Gavin’s arm and set the holder down, herding the two of them out of the apartment. Gavin closed the door before they left, determined to not leave much evidence of their presence there. 

Shortly after they got onto the streets, Michael saw several police cars in a shootout with Ryan. He could barely get a glimpse of his crew member before Gavin pulled him away from the scene over to get to their cars. Alfredo was in his, and Michael and Gavin would have to ride away in Ryan’s car. Michael crossed his fingers, hoping they parked far enough away to avoid police detection.

As they pulled away, Michael caught a glimpse of the building Ryan was on. He had cut off communication to avoid getting the others captured, but Michael could see his silhouette fall just before the building was blocked from view.

\---

Michael couldn’t look at the top of the buildings as he drove back to the penthouse. Every time he did, he could see the same events play out in his head: Ryan’s silhouette being gunned down by shadowed police officers. His brain would fill in the gaps then, with Michael theoretically climbing up to the same roof, _seeing_ Ryan lifeless on the ground. His body riddled with more gunshots than necessary, even for the Vagabond, ripping through his clothes and staining them with blood. And his eyes, that Michael loved to see sparkle when he was excited—in his own strange way—had no light left.

“Michael, boi, watch out!” Michael snapped out of his thoughts, letting Gavin swerve the steering wheel to the right. “Let’s just get home first, where we’ll be safe, yeah?”

He nodded, still numb to his surroundings. Michael could pay attention; he could see the cars on the roads around him. But mentally, he kept reliving what could’ve very well been the last few moments of Ryan’s life.

When they met up with Alfredo again, Michael let him do the talking. He explained how they got trapped, how Ryan told him to leave so only one of them would die instead of both or all of them. “From the way he said it, he kept making it sound like it was a suicide mission,” Alfredo mused. “But Ryan’s survived worse, right? Maybe he escaped?”

God, he really had no idea what kind of a seed he just planted in Michael’s mind. Geoff was saying something along the lines of keeping the crew’s options open for either scenario, but Michael was lost in his own head again.

As he tucked away his heist gear and got ready for bed, Michael’s mind went rampant. Thoughts of somehow finding Ryan during a mission, just hiding in an alleyway all patched up and waiting for them. Or waking in the middle of the night to find a tired-yet-relieved Ryan standing over his bed, his normally ice blue eyes warm with love. Or suddenly swooping in to save the crew when things looked like they were going south on a huge heist.

But Ryan had implied that he couldn’t struggle against fate anymore, and if Michael knew anything about fate, he knew that none of those fantasies would come true. 

Maybe this was what Ryan meant. Not only that, but to fate, he had gone too far with Michael. Did he risk himself to save Michael, or was this fate sending him his final warning?

\---

Michael couldn't bring himself to go up to the roof anymore. It reminded him of what happened to Ryan too much. He felt sick to his stomach, remembering what happened.

He couldn't easily get away from it anyway. Opening the fridge to see a pack of untouched Diet Cokes, or seeing Ryan's bedroom door closed (he always left it open when he was inside), were just some of the painful reminders of his absence. Michael could get through the day, but he was never all there. If nothing else, hardly anyone was.

“It's been like...a week, right?” Michael asked, to no one in particular. He was looking out the glass wall, up at the sky instead of the buildings. Unlike his mind, there were clear skies and mild temperatures outside. 

“Week and a half,” Jack replied. “The support team's looking for him, Michael. If you want to join them, no one's gonna stop you.”

Michael shook his head. “I'm good, but...thanks.” He didn't know how he would even react once he found Ryan, much less how that would change depending on if he was alive or dead. He couldn't deal with that, not right now.

Eventually, Gavin pulled him away in an attempt to distract him. He called Lindsay and Jeremy over so the four of them could play Mario Party, hoping that it would at least lift Michael's spirits for a bit.

He wasn't wrong; after a few rounds he was laughing and arguing with the rest of them. He didn't know how much sadness they were covering up with Ryan's absence, but at least they were doing _something._

Once the tournament was over, though, Michael found himself looking at the sky again. He tried to focus on playing something else, but he couldn’t make a solid decision. Eventually, he sighed and handed the Switch over to Gavin.

Before he could go to his bedroom, his phone buzzed. A notification from his apartment complex told him that a package was dropped off and put in his mailbox. _Guess I should go get that,_ he thought. _I don’t have much else to do anyway._

He told Jack he was leaving as he walked out of the penthouse and down to the garage. A small part of him hoped that it was something from Ryan, but that sounded like something fate would pull.

\---

When he pulled out the package from his mailbox, Michael noticed two things. One, it was pretty small—it was barely longer than his two hands end to end, and only slightly taller than his palm. Two, there was no return address. He swallowed his urge to open it in public and instead retreated to his apartment. Once he was inside, he cut the tape with a box cutter and looked inside.

Inside, there were two keychains on top of a piece of paper. One of the keychains was designed to look like a skull, the bone a dark gray, the outlines and eye sockets even darker. It seemed to stare into his soul, and Michael’s heart ached. The other keychain was simpler; a black heart whose keyring was attached to the skull’s.

Michael took out the two keychains and set them on the kitchen counter, taking out the note next. It was folded up, with his name in Ryan’s handwriting on one side. _This can’t be._ His hands shook as he unfolded the note, only to find that it was much longer than he thought.

_Hey, Michael._

_I hope this gets to you soon. I don’t know much about how the postal system works, especially when you don’t put a return address on something for your own safety._

_Anyway, if you’re reading this, then I’m alive. Or at least, I didn’t die from that rooftop shootout. It was just a shoulder shot—guess I moved fast enough to avoid a bullet in my collarbone. I was able to get away and I holed up in a cheap motel. The lady in charge is apparently in cahoots with one of our allied crews, so she saw my mask and my injury and is letting me stay for free for a while. I’m actually in my room as I’m writing this._

_The keychains are mostly just something extra I wanted to get you. Considering your jacket, I figured you were a fan of stuff like that. Something so you’ll never be without me—something you made clear to me that you wanted just a few months after you joined the Fakes. You weren’t scared of me, and I appreciate that._

_I’m sorry for how I was on the rooftop when you wanted to kiss me. What I said to you afterwards was a bit vague, so let me explain: fate isn’t kind to me. Or rather, it isn’t kind to the people who are kind to me. I feel like it’s luck that you and the rest of the crew haven’t died horribly yet. Everyone I was in love with and managed to start dating has been ripped away from me, in one way or another. I felt like I was putting them in danger, and being selfish for trying to pursue them. That’s why I didn’t want to be with you: I didn’t want to end up being responsible for your death._

_But I realized while I was healing that thinking about you, thinking about all those mushy romantic stuff I wish I could do you...it felt different. I started feeling less dread, waiting for those feelings to pass. I felt free thinking about you. I felt like fate couldn’t touch me. I know we’re criminals so it’ll likely never happen, but thinking about the two of us living together in a cottage out in the woods, living off the land...it sounds far-fetched, but something about it just feels right to me._

_If you still have feelings for me, I want to be with you. I don’t feel awful about this love, not anymore. I love you, Michael. That’s why I stayed away, at first. But I’m not scared anymore. I’ll love you as much and as long as you want me to._

_I’ll be home soon._

_Ryan_

Michael felt like a young Victorian woman in love. He seriously considered going over to his couch in case he fainted. Even when he tried to ground himself— _Ryan could’ve died of his injuries, the police could’ve found him, the lady running the motel could’ve gotten impatient and decided to finish him off_ —he found himself too high on the certainty that Ryan loved him back. He pinched himself a couple times, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

Before he could actually faint, there was a knock at the door. Michael snapped out of his thoughts and rushed to get the door, checking to make sure who it was.

Opening the door, Michael found someone just a few inches taller than him, in Ryan’s skull mask and jacket. There was even a hole in the shoulder, and he could see the white bandages through said hole.

If this person wasn’t Ryan, they were way more competent than anyone Michael had come into contact with.

After checking the security cameras, the person lifted up their skull mask. While Michael could see the same ice blue eyes Ryan had through the mask, he wasn’t sure until he saw the whole face.

Immediately, Michael pulled Ryan into his apartment, just barely shutting the door before tugging him close and finally, _finally_ kissing him. He knocked off the mask and threaded his fingers through Ryan’s hair, pressing him into the wall. Ryan gladly reciprocated, holding Michael up with one arm and using the other to hold the back of his neck. Michael could taste the slightest bit of cigarette smoke in the kiss, but he didn’t care. 

He loved Ryan, and Ryan loved him. Fate or not, they both knew it was right.

\---

Apparently, the bank they’d robbed nearly a month ago hadn’t been completely cleaned out, and its owners upped their security. Still, it was nothing to the Fakes, and as they were cleaning out their missed work, Michael found himself drawn to the same rooftop.

He was no longer scared of going up high, or seeing Ryan’s imaginary dead body lying on the roof in a pool of blood. 

“We might get yelled at again, Michael,” Ryan teased. He let Michael guide him onto the rooftop, the two of them holding hands.

“Yeah, but you know I’m not exactly a stickler for rules.” Michael pulled Ryan close, the cool night air sending chills up their spine. He reached up to touch Ryan’s neck, feeling a bit of the rough stubble over his thumbs. “Can I kiss you now?”

“I’d like that,” Ryan replied. Michael tilted his head up, and removed the part of the mask that obscured his mouth and nose. He wrapped his arms around Ryan’s neck, kissing him. As Ryan kissed back, Michael could smell the fake leather of the mask invading his senses, and he could taste faint cigarette smoke on Ryan’s lips.

In that one moment, things felt right. Michael knew fate wouldn’t want what was happening between them. But Michael understood what Ryan meant, feeling free like this. In Ryan’s arms, he was soaring.


End file.
